Over the Rocky Mountains: Wandering Will in the Land of the Redskin Part 9

"Then put my name down. How much is the pa.s.sage fare?"

"Fo-a-g-sl two hundred, cabin three hundred pa-o-unds."

"What!" exclaimed Will.

Captain Brown smiled. "You see," said he, "it c-a-unt be done for less--ha--'Bliged to give fa-bu-lous wages to crew, and only too thankful to get 'em at any price. Provisions cost their weight, a-most, in gold."

"Will you be here an hour hence?" asked our hero.

"Ya-a-s, two hours hence," drawled Captain Brown, lighting a fresh cigar at the stump of the old one.

Will Osten linked his arm through that of Captain Dall, and hurried him into the street.

"Now to the agent," he said. "If _he_ fails me, all is lost--stay! no; I can offer to work my pa.s.sage. That did not occur to me till now. I shall keep it in reserve."

A few minutes more and they stood in the presence of Mr Zulino.

"Is it possible," said Will, with an anxious expression of face, "to sell the property in Grizzly Bear Gulch _immediately_?"

The dry visage of the agent wrinkled into a sarcastic smile as he replied "Ha! I see, you are like all the rest--wish to turn everything into gold. Well, it _is_ possible to sell it, I make no doubt, because it is well situated and will increase in value; but what, do you mean by _immediately_?"

"To-night," said Will.

"Impossible."

"What's to be done?" cried our hero, turning to Captain Dall with a look of such perplexity and disappointment that even the hard heart of Mr Zulino was touched.

"Why such haste?" he inquired.

"Because business of the most urgent kind requires that I should embark for England in a vessel which sails to-morrow, and I have not money enough to pay for my pa.s.sage."

"I can lend you some on the property, at a high rate of interest," said the agent.

"Then do so, my dear sir," said Will earnestly, "at any rate of interest you choose, and I will sign any papers you may require. My friend here, Captain Dall, will see that you are regularly paid. I a.s.sure you that I shall _never_ forget the obligation."

"Follow me," said Mr Zulino, rising and putting on his hat.

He led them to the office of a man who appeared to be connected with the law, and who drew up a paper which, being duly signed and witnessed, Mr Zulino put in his pocket, at the same time handing Will Osten a cheque for four hundred pounds.

"Now, captain," said Will, with a deep sigh of relief, as they, once more issued into the street, "we'll go and enjoy our supper."

Next morning Will Osten, with a small portmanteau containing his little all in his hand, and accompanied by Captain Dall and Mr Cupples, pushed his way through the crowded streets to the quay, where a boat awaited him.

"Once more, Captain Dall," he said, turning round and grasping his friend's hand, "farewell! I am sorry--more so than I can tell--to leave you. May G.o.d prosper you wherever you go. Remember my messages to our friends at the gulch. Tell Larry and Bunco, and the trapper especially, that I feel almost like a criminal for giving them the slip thus. But how can I help it?"

"Of course, of course," said Captain Dall, returning the hearty squeeze of Will's hand, "how could you? Love, like necessity, has no law--or, rather, itself is a law which all must obey. Good-bye, lad, and good luck attend ee."

Silently shaking hands with Mr Cupples, whose lugubrious expression seemed appropriate to the occasion, Will leaped into the boat and was soon rowing over the bay to the spot where the Roving Bess lay with her anchor tripped and her sails loose. On approaching, he saw that Mr Westwood and his wife were pacing the quarterdeck, but Flora was not visible, the reason being that that busy little woman was down in her father's berth putting it to rights--arranging and re-arranging everything, and puzzling her brains with numerous little contrivances which were all meant to add to the comfort and snugness of the place-- wonderfully ingenious contrivances, which could not have emanated from the brain of any woman but one who possessed a warm heart, an earnest soul, a sweet face, and a turned-up nose! She was a good deal dishevelled about the head, in consequence of her exertions, and rather flushed, and her eyes were a little moist. Perhaps she was sad at the thought of leaving San Francisco--but no--she was leaving no friends behind her there. _That_ could not have been the cause!

The little round port-hole of the berth was open, and she stopped ever and anon in the midst of her operations to look out and listen to the variety of shouts and songs that came from the boats, vessels, and barges in the bay. Suddenly she stopped, turned her head the least bit to one side, and listened intently.

"My dear," said Mr Westwood to his wife, standing on the deck and leaning over the bulwarks, exactly above the open port near to which Flora stood, "_can_ that be Mr Osten in yonder boat?"

Flora's bosom heaved, and her colour vanished.

"I think it is--stay--no--it looks like--yes, it _is_ he," said Mrs Westwood.

Flora's face and neck became scarlet.

Presently the plash of oars were heard near the vessel, and next moment a boat approached, but not from such a quarter as to be visible from the port-hole.

"Mind your starboard oar," said a deep voice, which caused Flora's heart to beat against her chest, as if that dear little receptacle of good thoughts and warm feelings were too small to contain it, and it wanted to get out.

"Good morning, Mr Osten," cried Mr Westwood, looking down.

"Good morning, sir,--good morning, Mrs Westwood," answered Will, looking up.

"It is very kind of you to take the trouble to come off to bid us good-bye," said Mr Westwood.

Flora trembled a little, and leaned upon the side of the berth.

"I have not come to say good-bye," said Will (Flora's eyes opened wide with astonishment), "I am going--fend off, men, fend off, mind what you are about--I am going," he said, looking up with a smile, "to sail with you to England."

A peculiar gleam shot from Flora's eyes; the blood mantled again on her brow, and, sinking into a chair, she pressed her hands to her face and buried her head in her father's pillow!

CHAPTER SEVEN.

RAMBLING REMINISCENCES OF ABSENT FRIENDS, AND A HAPPY TERMINATION.

On the evening of a cold December day--the last day of the year--many months after the occurrence of the events narrated in the last chapter, old Mrs Osten sat in her drawing-room, toasting her toes before a cheerful fire. The widow looked very happy, and, to say truth, she had good reason for being so, for her stalwart son had come home to her safe and sound, and was at that moment sitting by her side talking in a most amazing way about his Flora--referring to her as a sort of captive bird which had now no chance of escaping, saying that he meant to take her to Paris, and Switzerland, and Rome, and in summer to the English Lakes, and Killarney, and the Scotch Highlands.

"In fact, mother," said Will, "after that little event comes off, which is fixed to take place next week, I mean to act the part of Wandering Will over again under entirely new and much more interesting circ.u.mstances. Ah! mother," he continued with enthusiasm, "how little did I think, when I was travelling through the wild regions of the far west, that I was being led to the spot where I should find _such_ a wife!"

"Yes, dear, you were indeed _led_," said Mrs Osten, "for that wild region was the very last place in the world to which you would have thought of going to look for a good wife, had you been guided by your own wisdom."

"True, mother, most true. Gold is much more plentiful in that land than wives, either good or bad. I wonder how my old comrades are getting on there now. You remember Larry, mother, and Bunco. How I wish I could have had them all here at our wedding! You would have delighted in old Captain Dall, and Captain Blathers, too, he's not a bad fellow though rather wild, but Big Ben would have pleased you most--by the way, this is the last night of the year. I doubt not they will be remembering me to-night, and drinking my health in clear cold water from the crystal springs of the Sierra Nevada. Come, I will pledge them in the same beverage," said Will, seizing a gla.s.s of water that stood at his elbow; "may success, in the highest sense of the word, attend them through life."

"Amen," murmured the widow, as Will drained the gla.s.s; "I hope they may get plenty of gold without catching the gold-fever, which is just another name for the love of gold, and that, you know, is the root of all evil. But go on telling me about your adventures, Will; I never tire of hearing you relate them."

"Well, mother, I'll begin again, but if you _will_ be for ever interrupting me with questions and remarks about Flora, I shall never get to the end of them. Now, then, listen."

Hereupon Will began to talk, and his mother to listen, with, we need scarcely say, intense interest.

Thus was the last night of that year pa.s.sed in the drawing-room. Let us see how it was spent in the kitchen.

"Yes, Jemimar," said Maryann, with her mouth full of b.u.t.tered toast, "I always said it, and I always thought it, and I always knowed it, that Master Will would come 'ome, and marry a sweet beautiful young lady, which 'as come true, if ever a profit spoke, since the day of Jackariah--let me fill your cup, my dear, p'raps you'll 'and me the kettle, Richards."